


If Love Is a Red Dress

by norah



Category: So You Think You Can Dance
Genre: Crossdressing, Kink, M/M, PWP, RPF, RPS - Freeform, Reality TV, Shaving, sytycd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-06
Updated: 2009-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-02 05:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norah/pseuds/norah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7Z5H6mGkIw">After this.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	If Love Is a Red Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Beta thanks to Grace the long-suffering. ♥!
> 
> For tevere, my fellow tinhat, with love.

As soon as Travis came into the dressing room, Ivan pounced.

Under any other circumstances, he would have given Travis endless shit about the girly shriek that he gave as Ivan grabbed him and pinned him against the wall, but it was bizarrely appropriate, and besides, Ivan was too busy kissing him to say anything. After a moment of shock, Travis was kissing back, too, wet and messy and frantic.

And then Ivan was stumbling back, and Travis was staring at him, strands of messy blonde hair sticking to his too-red mouth, hand still half-extended from where he'd pushed Ivan back. Ivan ran his tongue over his own lips and could taste Travis's lipstick, cheap and waxy. He was so hard he couldn't think.

"What the fuck?" Travis said.

"Dude." Ivan gestured at him. "I didn't think you'd do it."

Travis was still breathing hard, but he grinned and reached down to hike up one slumping legwarmer. "Didn't think I _could_, you mean. Like I was going to pay you three hundred bucks."

Ivan had been pretty sure Travis _would_ do the forfeit, actually, but when he'd said "in public, in drag," he'd been expecting something more like... well, not like this. "I..." He didn't know what to say. He took a step forward, and ran his thumb under Travis's lower lip, fixing the blurry smear of red his kisses had left. "You kind of went all-out," he said, and was embarrassed to hear the way his voice caught in his throat and came out rough and unsure.

"Yeah, well." Travis looked weirdly shy, and he fiddled with the fan he still held, not looking at Ivan. "No point in doing a half-assed job."

Ivan put a hand on Travis's hip, feeling the silky red material slip against his fingers. He swallowed.

"Did you see Nigel's face?" Travis said.

Ivan had. He'd been sitting in the wings, with a perfect view of the whole damn thing, and he had just mostly been glad nobody could see _his_ face. Because it had been a _joke_ when he'd said it, just another dare. He hadn't expected this - not just Travis in a dress, which, face it, they'd all seen on Halloween, like, _every year_, but Travis in _drag_, with the sway in his hips and his voice made soft to disguise it.

Ivan's mouth had been dry from the moment Travis had walked onstage.

It was dry now.

Travis was looking at him, and Ivan knew he'd asked him a question, but he couldn't remember what it was. He licked his lips again, and the taste of lipstick made his mouth water suddenly.

"You _like_ this, don't you?" Travis said, and he'd made his voice that soft, breathy one he'd used to say, "Excuse me?" to Nigel, and looked up from under his eyelashes at Ivan.

And Ivan knew he was blushing, but he couldn't help it; he hadn't thought he would _like_ it, and now Travis knew, and he was just _looking_ at him, all makeup and sweat and silky red dress. Ivan tightened his grip on Travis's hip and crowded up against him, anything to make him stop that knowing look, and kissed him again, tasting lipstick and salt.

"Fuck," he muttered, and bit Travis's jaw when Travis said, "Not here, we don't have time," because he hadn't meant it like _that_ and Travis knew it. Travis gasped, and ground up against him. That felt good, amazing, so Ivan licked and nibbled his way up to Travis's ear, and bit down again, and Travis _whined._

Ivan panted, grinding up against Travis's thigh, "That is _it_. You are _done_. We are going home right now, and I am going to bend you over that counter in the spare room, the one with a mirror, and fuck you so hard you scream."

Travis gasped again, and kind of laughed, and said, "Ow, Ivan, shut up, get off me," which was really not what Ivan was expecting him to say.

He pulled back and Travis laughed again, a stupid little embarrassed laugh and said, "Dude, no, that sounds like a good plan, that sounds like a _great_ plan, but this is fucking uncomfortable, you can't say shit like that to me when I'm wearing these things," and _lifted up his skirt_ and shoved down the red shorts. It was a bit of a struggle; they were made out of something thick and stretchy and he had to use both hands to get them down, but once they were at mid thigh he gave a sigh of relief and cupped his balls protectively. "Fuck, that's better," he said. "You have no idea how much it hurts to get hard when you're tucked." But Ivan wasn't really paying attention to what Travis was saying.

Ivan wasn't paying attention, because Travis _was_ hard, his dick poking out obscenely above the cradle of his hands and leaking a dark spot on the satin of the dress. He reached out and flipped up the hem of the dress to get a better look, and the red fabric draped over Travis's erection and fell down on either side, and he couldn't help himself. He was on his knees and running his hands up under Travis's skirt, licking messily at his cock, before he even realized he wanted to do it.

And fuck, once he was down there, it was _all_ he wanted to do. He sucked at the head, then went down as far as he could go, one smooth swallow, until he touched Travis's cupped hands and started to choke, and even then he wanted more. He batted Travis's hands away and wrapped his hand around the base, and then he really _did_ choke, because holy fuck. He pulled off, coughing a little.

"Dude!" he said.

"Shut up."

But Ivan was laughing, still on his knees stroking Travis's cock, but laughing, because "You really _did_ go all out!"

"Look, it hurts if the hairs pull when you're wearing a gaff," Travis said, and then, "No, shut up," when Ivan couldn't stop laughing, and then, "No, really, shut the fuck up," and then finally he just reached down and stuck his fingers in Ivan's mouth and said, "Don't you have anything better to do?" and Ivan remembered that he really, really did.

He took Travis back in, and this time he went slowly, and pushed all the way down until he could feel his nose brush against the smooth, hairless skin at the base. It was so fucking weird, but it was hot, too, being able to run his fingers over the smooth weight of Travis's balls, bare and only a little prickly; he must have done it that morning. And Ivan thought about Travis doing that in the shower, doing that to himself, and he pulled back and moaned around Travis's cock.

Travis made a little needy noise of his own, and tried to widen his stance, but the shorts were still around his thighs. Ivan ran his hands up - Travis's thighs were smooth, too, of course he'd had to shave his legs - and up again, under the skirt, and Travis shivered and gasped and said, "Oh, fuck, the skin's really sensitive now."

Ivan had to use a hand to press against his own cock, then, hard and aching in his jeans, but he didn't want to come, just take a little of the pressure off. He concentrated on Travis, on working him tight in his fist while giving him a sloppy, wet blow job, so wet his hand started to make slippery noises as he stroked and he could feel it dripping down onto Travis's balls, bare and tight up against the shaft. Travis was saying his name, "Ivan, oh fuck, Ivan," over and over, and Ivan looked up, looked up past the slinky red dress to see Travis with his smeared makeup and his blond wig askew, looking down at him.

Their eyes met, and locked, and Travis said, "Fuck," and curled up and jerked and came in Ivan's mouth, warm and salty and so sudden Ivan couldn't swallow it all and ended up with some on his chin and cheek. Travis slid down the wall, still shuddering, and crouched awkwardly and kissed Ivan with the taste still strong in Ivan's mouth, licked it off his chin, and said, "Fuck," again, heartfelt.

Ivan kissed him back. He wanted not to stop - he was hard, and Travis's hands on him felt good, and he _wanted_ \- but he allowed himself only another minute before he pulled back, panting. "Okay, dude. Get your shit."

"Don't you want," Travis said, and made a motion towards Ivan's crotch. Ivan stood up fluidly and adjusted himself.

"I want to go home," he said, "and fuck you in front of the mirror in the spare room like I told you. It can wait."

Travis looked up at him, and Ivan's self-control was seriously tested by how totally fucking debauched he looked, propped against the wall with his skirt crumpled up and his panties around his thighs. "Okay," Travis said. "Just let me get changed, and we can get a cab."

"No," Ivan said. "Don't bother changing."

Travis looked incredulous. "But we have to get home, and I can't..."

"You look good like this," Ivan said, and offered Travis a hand up.

"Seriously?" Travis said, hauling himself up with the proffered assistance and hopping awkwardly out of the red shorts. "I don't have to put these on again, do I?"

Ivan thought about the long cab ride home. He thought about Travis riding next to him with nothing on underneath his dress - fuck, his _dress_ \- and smiled.

"No," he said. "Just the dress."


End file.
